


Ye Olde Tradition of the Yule Fruitcake

by Littletee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littletee/pseuds/Littletee
Summary: Once upon a winter day, a fair witch sought help from a friendly giant on how to tame her growing beast of a wizard.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Kudos: 14
Collections: Page 394 Discord Winter Holidays Celebration





	Ye Olde Tradition of the Yule Fruitcake

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [00_Page_394_Winter_Holidays_Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/00_Page_394_Winter_Holidays_Collection) collection. 



> **Prompt:** fruitcake

* * *

Hermione gathered her cloak tighter to her, shielding herself against the blustery wind that galed around her as she purposefully made her way across the snow-dusted grounds of Hogwarts. A Scottish winter could be bitter, cold at times, and this was such a time. Even though it was just a day after Guy Fawkes Day, the wind was howling and driving the trees, both young saplings and the weathered strong sages that defended the Forbidden Forest, to and fro shaking their boughs free of the early snow as she neared Hagrid's hut. 

It had been fifteen years since her first trip to the sturdy and rustic series of huts Hagrid called home. During those years, she had grown from the bushy-haired, buck-tooth novice into the confident and powerful witch that she was today. After all, it wasn't any wizardess that could claim a double mastery before their twenty-fifth birthday. Yet, she was going to Hagrid for help once more. 

Her husband was in a particularly foul mood, and she knew what would help him thaw from a right Scrooge back to his  _ somewhat _ agreeable self, and that was fruitcake. The wrinkle was that it couldn't be any old fruitcake but  _ Hagrid's _ fruitcake. It was his best-made cake (second only to his birthday cakes, of course) that actually tasted good and wasn't harsh on one's teeth like rock cakes usually were. 

That was how Severus and herself began to grow beyond a collegial relationship and into a warm friendship that quickly blossomed into romance. Granted, the Ministry’s mandate that all able-bodied wizards marry or face monstrous fines and punishments had pushed them into marriage sooner than either had expected. Still, at least they were happy with one another and loved each other. That was more than she could say for poor Ronald and Lavender, who were reportedly in row after row.

Hagrid must have spotted her, for he opened the door and ushered her in right as she stepped onto his stoop. 

"Golly Hermione, get yer self outa of the cold." Hermione smiled at Hagrid as she unrobed out of her cloak and accepted the mug of hot apple cider he had poured up for her. "Whatever brings ya here? Not that I ain't thrilled to have ya visit now."

"Hagrid, I need your help."

"Ya have it. What is it ya need?"

"Teach me how to make your fruitcake."

Hagrid blinked, stunned before his cautious smile grew into a genuine one full of happiness. "Why I be happy to teach ya, Hermione. I was just about to make a cake fer myself. Ya came at just the right time."

"That would be great. Thank you." She had hoped for tomorrow or the day after, but today was even better. That way, she could bring her cake home to her grumpy lover and hopefully soothe the metaphorical beast with baked nuts and berries. 

Thus, after their mugs of cider were drunk and banished to the sink to be washed, they jumped right into the spirit of baking. Hermione seamlessly fell back into the role of a pupil as she listened and followed Hagrid's directions and methods. She had looked at a few fruitcake recipes and had even attempted them, but none had tasted anywhere as light and wonderfully filling as Hagrid's were. So much so that she hadn't even given any to Severus to try fearing that it would only cause his inner beast to grow even wilder. Now she knew why those other recipes had fallen short of Hagrid's fruitcake. They lacked three things—three essential things: candied elderberries, dibs syrup from dates, and half again as much rum.

After carefully removing her fruitcake from the dutch oven, she bid Hagrid a good night. She quickly made her way back home to her Severus, the stories Hagrid told her while they waited for their cakes to bake, warming her heart and soul despite the onslaught of the numbing wind wailing around her. 

One of them was how Hagrid had learned the recipe and the desire to bake from Severus's late mother, Eileen. 

* * *

  
  


_ Rubeus Hagrid plopped down to a sitting position under one of the magic apple trees that made up the small orchid before the greenhouses. The missive from St. Mungo's clenched in his large hands as tears began to flow down his cheeks and onto the crumpled paper freely.  _

_ He was an orphan now. His father was dead. _

_ Sure his mum was still alive, well,  _ probably  _ still alive. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't heard from her through written letters or otherwise since that one memory of her holding him with a sad face when he was a baby. Maybe he didn't even have her now either. _

_ He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming as grief and despair swelled within him.  _

_ "Rubeus, whatever is the matter?" Eileen Prince asked as she approached the crying second-year half-giant after overseeing a few rounds of Gobstones in the greenhouse courtyard. Her clubmates having all decided to take the more direct way back to their respected dorms while she had gone the scenic route back through the vibrant orchid of the various-colored and glittering apples. The orchid was her second favorite place in Hogwarts and only second to the Black Lake's peaceful shores. _

_ "Eileen," Hagrid hiccupped as another sob tore through him with a shake. "I'm all alone now." _

_ Eileen blinked before seeing the torn envelope with St. Mungo's animated Rod of Asclepius cast aside in the dirt a few feet away from the sorrowful Hagrid.  _

_ She was momentarily at a loss on how to act since she did not know anything on how one was expected to comfort an obviously grief-stricken half-giant. Then she took her handkerchief and enlarged it with her wand. She would simply do what she hoped someone else would do for her in such a situation. With the widened cloth in hand she silently, but gently took Hagrid's face into her hands and wiped his cheeks dry.  _

_ They were not close friends, but they were both classmates and wizards, so when Hagrid returned her simple kindness with a big hug, she allowed it, and even though she would deny it to anyone who might ask, she had returned his hug. She would most assuredly refute anyone that would comment on what she did next. _

_ "Seeing as you have had a good cry, let us go bake something in the kitchens. We both need it." Surely the House-elves wouldn't mind, she added silently. After all, they hadn't objected when she and her sister would go there and bake whenever one of them was feeling low. Baking made one smile, and a smiling wizard was a happy wizard. That was her mother and sister's favorite saying, and she had to admit that it was true.  _

_ Hagrid sniffed and wiped his misty eyes with his newly given handkerchief before clumsily standing and following Eileen to the kitchens. He had never cooked or baked anything before, well, except for peanut butter toast, so his spirits lightened as they walked.  _

_ "What will we be baking?" Hagrid finally asked after following Eileen through the passage that opened into the kitchens where several elves were busily preparing and cooking for the evening feast. He smiled as smells of apples and cinnamon danced through the air.  _

_ Eileen pondered for a moment. Looking around at what wasn't being actively used, at a loss until she spotted several fruits that had been freshly dehydrated, and a memory floated to her mind. A memory that stared Hagrid around last Yuletide right before the Winter Holidays when he proudly declared aloud that,  _ "This here fruitcake is me's favorite cake now. It has everythin’."

_ "Fruitcake."  _

_ Hagrid grinned. "I love fruitcake." _

_ "I know." Eileen returned his grin. No one was immune to Hagrid's grins, with the possible exception of Riddle—then again, she had never seen him genuinely smile. Oh, he would do polite smiles and reserved smiles and even chilling smiles at times, but they never truly reached his eyes. Shaking herself free from her sudden mental rabbit trail, she summoned two big mixing bowls and began to walk Hagrid through how best to make fruitcake.  _

* * *

  
  


Hermione’s grin grew as she remembered the story she had just heard of a young Severus of seven meeting Hagrid for the first time while being laid up due to a broken leg and two broken ankles. 

* * *

  
  
  


_ Severus hugged his pillow as he forlornly stared out of his bedroom's window to the dismal front garden below. Thanks to the effects of the hard frost the night before, the small lawn of grass was a muted pale green, and the previously surviving lilies were now wilted and dead. He barked a hollow laugh. It was just another reminder that he would most likely weather away himself holed up here in the dank, dark rafters of this house.  _

_ Why bother? He thought despondently as he threw the worn textbook that once belonged to his mum against the peeling wallpaper that showed sketches of various volcanoes and lined his meager room.  _

_ A loud knocking at the front door, loud enough to climb the two stories to his room, stopped him from his quickly down spiraling thoughts and alerted his inquisitive side awake.  _

_ Who could it be? Neighbors didn't call on them, and his parents never had friends over—he suspected that neither one had a friend, just each other, and that was why they were still together when clearly neither loved the other.  _

_ He gasped when he heard his mum laugh, not a hollow laugh or a forced one to keep Tobias happy but a real, honest chuckle. It was light and gay. Now his curiosity was truly piqued. Who had come calling and had made his stern and withdrawn mother laugh? _

_ His question was soon answered as his room's door was thrown open, and a giant squeezed through the narrow doorway and into his room. His hair was long and wavy, and so was his beard. His eyes were dark, but unlike Severus's mother's eyes, they twinkled with a spark and with merriment.  _

_ "Happy Yule Severus. Ya don't know me, but I'm an old friend of yer ma. My name is Rubeus Hagrid, but my friends call me Hagrid." The giant—Hagrid—cheerfully introduced himself as he took a seat on a chair that Severus thought would have surely collapsed under his weight yet stubbornly held. Hagrid pulled out a box from his fur coat and brushed off some strands of fur from the box lid. "Here, I made ya something special when I heard what happened from ya ma." _

_ Severus took the box and opened it to reveal a cake. It smelled of apples, apricots, pineapple, cherries, and other fruits he couldn't quite place, and what appeared to be honey was glistening the top and sides of the cake over the layer of various nuts. Severus had never seen such a grand cake before. He never knew one could be so beautiful and elaborate like this one was.  _

_ "Thank you," he whispered in awe as he pinched a bite of cake—something he knew his mum would frown and scold over if she had seen him do it—and ate it. The flavors danced with his tastes, and he purred. "Thank you, Hagrid. It's the best cake I've ever eaten." _

_ "Ya most welcome, Severus, but if this is the best, then we need to have ya try more cakes. Ya have not lived until ya have some rock cake." _

_ Severus only nodded as he took another bite. He had never heard of rock cakes, but he had never met a giant before today either, so who was he to question whether such a thing exists or not.  _

_ Severus's mum had come in around then and had taken the cake to be sliced up and given out during tea. Severus was reluctant to see his cake leave, but Hagrid had another surprise in his massive coat: a wooden ocarina that he had craved himself.  _

_ Severus followed Hagrid's movements, for the friendly giant had one as well. They both played a melody of some song that Severus had never heard before but decided as he mimicked Hagrid's movements that he rather liked it.  _

_ "It's an old centaur song that I learned while listening to them sing and dance during one of their high feasts." _

_ "There centaurs?" Severus asked, amazed enough to not worry how the question made him look ignorant, which he detested.  _

_ "Aye. Haven't yer ma told ya of Hogwarts and its forest?" _

_ Severus shook his head no. "She has told me about Hogwarts, but I don't remember anything about a wood." _

_ Hagrid sighed and shook his head. "She has been through a lot, yer mum, so we can't fault her fer that. And besides, I'm here to set you straight fer ya see I keep the grounds fer Hogwarts. I make sure everything runs smoothly and safe for everyone. It's a big area, and the woods and the lake take up a good space too." _

_ Thus, Severus listened rapidly to his surprise visitor as he toyed his ocarina absently, spellbound upon hearing all the fanciable creatures that lived around Hogwarts.  _

_ More than ever, he wanted to go and see it and to hike the woods in between his classes about magic and sorcery.  _

_ Severus Snape silently prayed that the next three years would fly by so he could go to Hogwarts. There, his life could truly begin away from his father's harsh temper and the ever dour neighborhood. He could not wait until he could start training to be a wizard. For he knew that once he was a wizard that the world would be his oyster.  _

* * *

Hermione took a claiming breath upon hearing the pronounced shutting of the door marking her husband’s arrival home from Hogwarts. It was closer to a slam today, and Severus had never been one to slam doors. Another indication that his inner-beast needed something to pacify it before it grew even more.

“Severus, please join me in the kitchen,” Hermione called out to the disquieting silence. After a beat, she added, “I have something I think you’ll like… freshly baked fruitcake.”

“fruitcake?” Severus finally answered as he stalked into the kitchen. Severus already replaced his formal teaching robes with something more casual: slacks, a cardigan, and reading glasses. His long raven hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Hermione inwardly licked her lips. He was one wizard that would look dashing in anything. “Where did you get it?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she handed her husband two slices of the cake and a hot mug of apple cider. “I didn’t  _ get it _ . I baked it.”

“Oh, and pray tell where did you bake it?” Severus cocked an eyebrow as he joined his wife at their island counter. The kitchen looked intact, and Hermione’s bushy mane appeared to be free of any singed hairs. Their kitchen always seemed to explode or catch on fire whenever his wife tried cooking. He had his suspicions as to why. This was a Muggle flat, and thus the kitchen had electrical appliances, and electricity and magic were not friends. When both were involved, trouble or destruction was close-by. A notion his wife had dismissed as pure myth, a fallacy if you may. 

Hermione glared at Severus for a long moment before turning to her slice of fruitcake. “I went to see Hagrid and asked him to teach me his fruitcake recipe if you must know.”

Severus blinked. He had not expected that. He took his fork and took a bite of the golden brown fruitcake. The melody of light tart fruits, earthy nuts, and sweet honey danced on his tongue. This was Hagrid’s recipe, all right. 

They both eat in silence for a while. Both were savoring their portion of the fruitcake and spiced cider. 

“Thank you,” Severus finally whispered warmly with a light peck of a kiss on Hermione’s cheek. 

Hermione’s frown lightened into a thin smile. “You’re welcome, love.” He was back. Hermione had appeased the angry beast with cake, and her equable, unflappable lover was back. 

And, that dear reader, was all due to Hagrid’s fruitcake. For you see, his cakes are baked with love and magic. They always have been, and they always will be. That’s what really makes them unique. 

_ Merry Christmas. _


End file.
